Chipmunk TV

The Bird TV out here in the boonies of New Hampster is pretty good, but the Chipmunk and Skwirl TV are awesome too. Can you see the little guy I have got my eye on?

Frosty Morning

Yes, it's below freezing out.

 Yes, I still wanted to go out on the front porch.

Yes, Mom let me go.

Yes, I was FINE. I was out there for about fifteen minutes, enough to survey my domain, then I came back inside.

Millie Monday

Hey Mom, if I can't go out on the front porch, I'll nap here on the dining room table.

Sunny Saturday

Did you think I would be anywhere else?

Not Wordless Wednesday

A lot of folks do not understand why I do not like it when my Mom walks onto the porch when I am already there. I would like to explain.

When Mom adopted me, I was about sixteen weeks old and I was a feral kit. I had never been handled by people until I was twelve weeks old, and that means I never had the opportunity to know they could be OK. It is a fact that a kitten that has not been exposed to people touch before twelve weeks will always be "feral," and rarely will such a kit grow up to be a people cat.

I am, and always will be, a feral.

My V-E-T says Mom has done an exceptional job with me. (I beg to differ. I believe it is the other way around, but neither one of them understands Cat, so what can I do?) I love my Mom. I sit next to her, sometimes I even sleep next to her. Occasionally I have been known to sit on her lap. I let her give me scritches. Sometimes I let her brush my furs, but not often.

Mom cannot touch me with both hands at once. She cannot touch my feet or my belly. (When we visited her friend Kathy in Maine a few weeks ago, Kathy asked how did Mom trim my claws. Answer: Mom doesn't.) In short, Mom cannot get me to do anything SHE wants me to do.

Mom cannot pick me up, and can count on one hand the number of times she has done so in the almost nine years I have lived with her. (Think about that. Mom CANNOT pick me up. I don't let her.)

To get me to the V-E-T, Mom has to chase me around the house. I hiss, and I scratch. I do not like being chased.

I never sleep with my back to Mom. In fact, Mom has never seen me sleep totally stretched out and relaxed. She thinks I must do it when she is away day-hunting. I'll never tell.

I am no dummy. I never put myself anyplace that does not have an escape route. If Mom comes into a room where I am napping and closes the door, I am instantly awake, and aware. I do not like it if ANYBODY blocks my escape route. I will always leave the area.

THAT'S why I hiss at Mom when she comes onto the porch when I am already there. She is blocking my escape route, and that makes me uncomfortable. If she is already on the porch, then it's OK for me to be there too, because my escape route is not blocked.




P.S., I do have a microchip so if I get out or get lost, if I get caught, I will be able to get back to Mom. Of course, the operative phrase is "if I get caught."

Surprising Thursday

Mom was on the porch, and I went out there to join her. So now there's proof. If she's there first, I will join her. But if I am there first, I have it to myself.

Tuxie Tuesday

It was 80F here yesterday, and as you can see, Mom opened one of the big windows in the studio. I was able to see and smell everything. It was pawsome.

Then last night she opened the door to the porch, so I sat out there for a long time. It was good too!

Abandoned

No, there are no pictures, but it's true. Mom opened the door to the porch last night, and I went outside to sniff around. 

I came back inside to have dinner, but Mom didn't know I went out again, and found a nice hidey place to nap a bit.

Mom thought I was inside, turned out the light, closed and locked the door.

I was out on the porch as it got dark and cool.

Mom didn't notice for a couple of hours, and then suddenly the door opened and Mom was calling me, waving a bag of treats.  I didn't make any noise until she started shoving the boxes around, and then, because I was cornered, I let out a yowl. That didn't stop Mom.

It didn't stop another of the neighbor woofies from barking at me. I had a woofie barking behind me, and Mom shoving boxes around in front of me. I do not like being cornered, and this was very uncomfortable. 

Mom moved stuff around so I would have an easy exit, and then she kept coming. She moved a chair and reached toward me, when I darted out of my hiding spot and back into the house.

Now, I was never in any REAL danger because the porch is fully screened in and there's no way I could get the porch door open, but still.  I got stuck out on the porch in the dark.

I think I'm gonna spend my weekend IN the house. Mom says we won't have porch days until next summer anyway.

The Porch

It was really warm (for October) when Mom got home from day-hunting last night, so she opened the door to the porch and let me go out there.  I stayed on the porch a long time, sniffing the outside and watching.

I really like the porch.